A Hultane Christmas
by Lycan-Song
Summary: How Christmas dinner was decided in Hult.


**'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Hult******

**Not a creature was stirring, well, except for the lot;******

**The heads were hung on the pikes with**** great care,**

Knowing that St. Nicholas would never dare go there.

Arcell was looking through a cookery book, stirring a cauldron on the fire. Behind him, white smoke began to gather in the corner, not because the Master of Hult was burning anything, oh no, that was already happening in front of him. No, no, _behind_ him it was just the ghost of Christmas Past rising in spectral form from the ground.

"Arcell..." It said in a typical ghostly, quavering voice. "Arcell..."

Arcell turned and looked at it.

"Hello," he said politely.

"Arcell, I have come to show you the error of your ways..." The quavering voice said dramatically.

"Have you now?" Arcell asked, cocking an eyebrow beneath the armour. Picking up a can of Pine Fresh air freshener from the kitchen bench, Arcell sprayed the ghost until it disappeared, coughing as it evaporated back into the ether.

"Also effective against carollers," Arcell mused to himself. Setting down the can and returning to his cauldron, so far filled only with hot water and a few sprigs of parsley, Arcell didn't look round as Mura entered the kitchen behind him, quieter than even the ghost had come before. Catching whiff of the Pine Scent and deciding not to ask for Arcell's self-esteem, obviously the Bane had burnt something again, Mura addressed his Master.

"Master Arcell, I have finished decorating the fortress for Christmas, fairy-lights confuse the orcs and the goblins are chewing the fake gingerbread men."

"Very good, Mura" Arcell replied cheerily, patting Mura encouragingly on the head with a carrot, "Now riddle me this, what should we eat for Christmas dinner?"

"As long as it's Christmassy and edible, I don't think people will mind, what with the fact that most of us haven't eaten anything since Halloween when we stole all the candy from those children and then shot it at Salhart after licking every one of them."

"And then we watched as the elves ate the candy, hee hee, we are so evil." Arcell smiled into empty space, enjoying the flashback.

"Yes we are, Master. Now, you've really got to sort out the food shortage problem."

"I'll make it my New Year's Resolution."

"Sorting out the shortages was this year's resolution for you; mine was to grow long hair."

Mura flicked back his well-conditioned hair.

"Which I did in a rather _gorgeous _way," he added.

"Yes, yes Mura, we know you are very sexy, now hurry up and tell me what to cook."

"Please leave the cooking to someone else, Master. No offence, but the fortress has been set on fire enough times this year. And the war hasn't even really begun yet."

It was at this point in the conversation that Mr Omin entered the scene.

"Oh good, Omin," Arcell greeted the newest addition to the room. "Help us out here; what do you think is Christmassy?"

"Umm... Reindeer?" came the white-eyed one's reply, caught off-guard by the sudden question.

"You think we should eat reindeer?" Arcell asked, initially affronted before he began musing over the idea.

"We can't eat reindeer!" Mura interjected vehemently, seeming greatly repulsed and, unlike Arcell, not open to the idea of musing the suggestion over.

"It's an option." Arcell said, seeming in favour of seeing Rudolph's legs sticking out of his cauldron later.

"No it isn't!" Mura reiterated, still highly aghast.

"Why not?" Omin asked, frowning. It wasn't that he wasn't overly in favour of his own idea but he was for anything which Mura was against.

"_Because there are just some things you don't eat_!" Mura said, almost screeching with the apparent obscenity he had for the concept of eating cute little caribou.

"I ate an elf once." Omin stated blandly, shrugging his shoulders by way of argument.

Mura, being an elf, naturally stepped a few feet away from him at this point.

"The freak-dog did what?"

"Don't worry, Mura," Arcell soothed his cohort. "It was just an accident, Omin doesn't usually eat elves on a daily basis. That said, it might explain why there aren't many elves in the Dark Cause..."

"I wouldn't eat you anyway." Omin reassured Mura. "You'd taste like nothing but catnip and anorexia."

Mura hissed and Omin growled back at him.

"Quiet, my pretty pets," Arcell said, clapping his hands happily at his slightly feral minions. "Now the question still remains, what shall we eat?"

"Well, I suppose we could always eat the Five." Omin said, thinking aloud.

"Five? What Five?" Arcell asked, confused.

"_The _Five," Omin said, wondering how Arcell could have forgotten his sworn enemies, although granted he hadn't had that many dealings with them so far, but still.

"Oh those Five," Arcell said, bringing up and meshing together the right memories. "Do you think they would be tasty?"

"As my mother used to say, anything is tasty when you've had enough whisky," Omin said.

"Splendid! Then let's all go get drunk and then beat up the Five!"

"Sounds like what we did last Christmas, Master," Mura remarked.

"Does it? I don't remember us doing that last Christmas."

"Well of course you don't, you were drunk on whisky," Omin explained.

"We really think you might have a problem, Master." Mura interjected.

"I _don't_ have a problem." Arcell stressed.

"That makes you sound like you have a problem." Mura folded his arms.

"So are we eating the Five then or what?" Arcell asked, slightly testily, wanting to get away from the daily recurring subject of his alcoholism.

"Of course we are," Mura exclaimed simply. "It'll be fun, like going out clubbing."

"Good, so we're agreed." Arcell clapped his hands together. "Omin, fetch us the clubs for going out clubbing!"


End file.
